Page 10 of The Pleasure in Persuasion

“She won’t,” Penelope said firmly. “Goodbye, Freddy.”

Chuckling over the unsubtle hint, he transferred Jasper to his sister’s arms. “Goodbye, Penelope. And, Miss Grayling…” He bowed his head to her. “Until we meet again.”

And, with his sister shooting daggers with her eyes and Lily Grayling avoiding his gaze altogether, Frederick turned and headed for the house, smiling all the way there.

Lily did not watch Frederick Darrington exit the garden, though she certainly wanted to. He was just so delectable with all that tousled black hair, the chiseled jawline, those intelligent, teasing eyes. He quite literally made her belly clench.

And he was Penelope’s brother.

She had completely forgotten he was coming to Little Bilberry this week, so when she’d met the stranger on the road yesterday, it hadn’t occurred to her he might be a Darrington.

And it certainly hadn’t occurred to her that she would see him again, standing in Penelope’s garden with little Jasper in his arms, his silk cravat askew and drooping like sodden seaweed. The cravat was likely damaged beyond repair, but Mr. Darrington didn’t seem to mind a whit. Her belly gave another unwelcome flutter.

Why, oh, why did the handsome stranger from yesterday have to be Penelope’s brother? She’d hoped never to see him again, but now it seemed he would be in Little Bilberry for several days, and worse, staying in her dearest friend’s house.

Curses. She did not want him here. He was too handsome, too charming, too tempting. And she did not want to be tempted.

“I apologize for my brother’s behavior,” Penelope said, claiming a seat on the bench and settling Jasper on her lap. “Freddy is a good enough sort, but he is a flirt, and a rather successful one at that. Please do not fall victim to his silver tongue.”

Lily sat down beside Penelope and folded her hands primly in her lap. “There is no chance of that happening, I assure you. I have absolutely no interest in men, least of all silver-tongued rogues.”

Frederick Darrington’s broad shoulders and mischievous smile flashed through her mind.

Well, almost no interest.

“I suppose he is something of a rogue,” Penelope said with a sigh. “I love him dearly, though. Of course, he drives me mad, as well. He’s so clever, so capable, yet he wastes his life on parties and trysts and meaningless frivolities. I want more from him, more for him.”

“He is still a young man,” Lily pointed out.

“He’s five-and-twenty,” Penelope said flatly. “William and I were both twenty-one when we became betrothed. It is time Freddy grew up.”

“I do not disagree with you,” Lily said with a rueful smile, “but I will admit, a part of me envies men like your brother. I think I’d like more frivolity in my life.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” Penelope huffed out a laugh and then, as if feeling guilty over the remark, dropped a kiss on Jasper’s head.

“Not that I wish to change my life, of course,” Lily said. “I love running the inn with Gran, and I’m grateful for everything I have here, but…” She blew out a covetous sigh. “A little revelry would be lovely on occasion. I’d even settle for a little relaxation.”

“And you certainly deserve it,” Penelope said. “You work harder than anyone I know.”

Lily shrugged. “I enjoy it, mostly. But I wouldn’t mind being a little less busy every now and then.”

Penelope bussed Jasper’s cheek noisily, drawing a squeal of delight that made Lily smile, even as it tugged at her heart. She enjoyed spending time with Penelope and her children, but it could be painful, too, being this close to the kind of family she yearned for yet might never know herself.

“Have you considered hiring someone to help out at the inn?” Penelope asked as she fussed with the collar of Jasper’s white cotton frock.

“We cannot afford it.”

It wasn’t strictly true, but Lily would rather do the work herself and set aside the coin she might have spent on wages in case of future hardships or unplanned repairs.

“Well, what about a husband then?” Penelope asked. “Some fit young man to warm your bed and help you run the inn?”

“You sound like my grandmother,” Lily said with a roll of her eyes. “But, no, our situation is not so dire that I must consider marriage.”

Penelope slid her an assessing look. “Does your situation need to be dire to compel you to take a husband?”

“Absolutely. Dire verging on destitute.”

Penelope laughed. “And if a dashing stranger should arrive at the inn, profess to you his undying love and beg you to be his wife, would you still refuse to marry?”